


if i go will you follow

by ababybat



Series: With Teeth [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Violence, M/M, Masturbation, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines meets Voltron: Legendary Defender, Vampires, WoD Terminology, World of Darkness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 16:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16705924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ababybat/pseuds/ababybat
Summary: Okay, so maybe Keith does owe Shiro for keeping his neck away from the chopping block. But if Keith is honest, that's not why he's snuck away to Santa Monica. Shiro is a complete mystery, and alluring in a way that Keith didn't know a person could be. He's just not capable of staying away from the older vampire, and if this new, strange obsession he's developed ends up being his undoing, then so be it. Keith's always been speeding headlong towards disaster, and this time he's ready to burn.Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines AU





	if i go will you follow

**Author's Note:**

> So I, uh, guess that itch still needs to be scratched? That or Keith really didn't like where I left things in part 1, and wants to be reunited with Shiro ASAP. Yeah, we'll go with that second one. If you haven't read part one then you're gonna be really confused, but hey, you do you, my friend. I'm not gonna tell you what you can and cannot read. I'll warn you that Keith just wouldn't stop asking questions, so there's a lot of talking. Sigh. Hopefully it isn't as boring as I fear it is. Chapter two of this will feature more action. And I'm not just talking about the kicking and punching variety. Keith is thirsty in more ways than one...
> 
> As always there's a glossary at the end for those who aren't familiar with VtM:B or WoD, but it's a little bit shorter this time and, as always, I try to explain things as I go. 
> 
> A quick note about **Disciplines** : Disciplines are vampiric powers, and each vampire clan has their own set of Disciplines. For example, Dominate is a power the Ventrue and Tremere have, while Animalism is something unique to Gangrel and Nosferatu. Now as I understand it, in the actual World of Darkness canon, each vampire can learn any Discipline given enough time, except for really specific ones like Thaumaturgy and Vicissitude, which are clan-specific powers for the Tremere and Tzimisce. However, in the game itself, each clan only has specific Disciplines available to them and they can't learn new ones. For example, a Brujah can't learn Dominate, and a Ventrue can't learn Celerity. I'm going with the game's system to make each clan feel more unique. To use a Discipline, vampires "activate" the blood inside them. If they use too many Disciplines at once, they'll burn through their blood too quickly and that leads to some terrible things happening. A vampire should never be allowed to starve...
> 
> Shout out to those who know that "Elizabethan Rendezvous" is the actual name of the mission you go on in the game. And another special shout out to one of the in-game characters, Gomez, who came so close to the truth...

 

* * *

 

_"Hello, LA! You're up way past your bedtime, aren't you? Hope you've slipped into something comfortable... I know I have. If you're new to town, or just new to this whole radio thing, you're listening to The Deb of Night; the only girl who will spend the night with you and leave first thing in the morning – guaranteed."_

_\- The Deb of Night (Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines)_

 

Keith slams the cab's door shut behind him, cutting the woman on the radio off before she can take any callers. Too many perverts and weirdos phone in this late at night, and Keith isn't in the mood to listen to them. While the endearingly hyperactive conspiracy theorist, Gomez, is usually entertaining enough to listen to, even if everything he says _does_ sound like the result of a really bad acid trip, the rest of Deb's 'fans' are bizarre, and not in any fun kind of way.     

 

The driver is giving him a dirty look, but Keith doesn't notice it, wouldn't care even if he was paying attention, so when the cab speeds away with a spluttered cough of an old and dying engine, Keith doesn't flip the driver the bird to annoy the man even more. Instead Keith shoves his hands down in the pockets of his worn-out leather jacket and stands on the curb, feeling kind of lost, kind of stupid, because he didn't really think beyond 'get to Santa Monica and, more importantly, get to Shiro' when he'd decided to sneak out of The Last Round an hour earlier.

 

Thankfully no one spares him a second glance. The people wandering the streets are too preoccupied by whatever has them up so late at night to worry about the strange guy who won't move despite the rain coming down in a steady pour.

 

Keith was like that once – content to keep his head down. Happy in his own little bubble, he never paid any kind of attention to anything or anyone else because he had his own problems to deal with. Then that freak accident happened, and a woman he barely knew decided to completely wreck his miserable, but quiet life—

 

Keith winces, and pushes away from that line of thought. He isn't ready to think about what happened, or about his Sire. He isn't sure if he'll ever be ready.

 

Anyway, Keith moves on quickly, that was then and this is now. _Now_ he's hyperaware of everyone around him. He can hear the heartbeat of every person who walks by, and it sounds so wonderful that he almost begins salivating. If Keith closes his eyes, he swears he can feel the way their blood flows, so deliciously wet and hot through their veins. It's incredibly easy to imagine how wonderful their blood will feel on his eager tongue.

 

Keith's belly twists and then erupts into a terrible fire. His mouth has gone bone dry, and his throat is actually throbbing with agony. His new, monstrously sharp canines are aching from the desperation to bite into someone and rip them to bloody _pieces_.

 

The big guy - Hunk, Keith thinks his name is – would tell him that he's dangerously close to starving and he needs to feed soon or something terrible will happen. Hunk would undoubtedly flutter around him like some kind of mother hen, making sure that Keith is alright while the annoying smartass whose name Keith is determined _not_ to remember makes some kind of sarcastic comment.

 

Well, what the hell does Hunk know anyway?

 

More than Keith does, a snide voice whispers in the back of his mind.

 

He _is_ hungry, but Keith isn't sure how he's supposed to fix that.

 

After his trial – and after Shiro saved his life – Keith was taken to The Last Round. Once there, Hunk wordlessly handed him a beer bottle filled to the brim with thick, dark blood. And that was that, really. No ceremony; no fuss.

 

Disoriented and overwhelmed by everything that was happening, it was easy enough for Keith to pretend he was simply drinking a really shitty beer.

 

But now Keith doesn't what he's supposed to do. Does he lure someone into a dark, abandoned alley and attack, or is there a place he's supposed to go to that will help him satiate that horrible hunger inside him? Are vampire bars a real thing, or is The Last Round one of a kind?

 

Instinct tells him that going hunting for prey sounds like a fantastic idea, but whatever part of Keith that's still human flinches away from the thought of violently attacking a person like he's some kind of vicious beast. Keith shakes his head, shoves the hunger down, and ignores it as best he can even as the fire deep in his gut feels like it's slowly turning into an inferno.

 

Flicking his tongue over his pointed teeth, Keith finally begins walking towards the pier.

 

Keith doesn't get very far, though.

 

"I thought you weren't coming," someone says behind him.

 

Keith freezes at the sound of that incredible voice. He shivers, or perhaps he's only imagining it, but even so, Keith knows too damn well that he is far too affected by the man standing behind him.

 

Not that Keith is going to make it so obvious.

 

Squaring his shoulders, Keith turns and narrows his eyes. "Yeah well, I figured I do actually owe you one."

 

In a soft gray Henley and expensive jeans that fit exactly right, Shiro looks like a model who just stepped out of the pages of one of those douchy fashion magazines Keith sometimes flipped through while waiting in line at his local grocer.

 

"You don't owe me anything, Keith," Shiro reminds him gently.

 

"Sure I don't."

 

They spend a minute simply staring at each other, which actually _does_ draw a few curious looks from people passing by.

 

With his otherworldly white hair, kind but peculiar gray eyes and soft smile, it's easy to forget that Shiro is actually a cunning and ruthless vampire. He looks far more like a beautiful angel who has come down from above to right every wrong that has ever been committed.

 

Keith remembers thinking the exact same thing during his trial when Shiro stepped forward to challenge Lotor's decision to have him killed.

 

Shiro was mesmerizing then, and he's absolutely enchanting now.

 

Keith can't help but wonder if that feeling of amazement he has whenever he so much as looks at the older man will ever disappear, or if he's doomed to be enamored by Shiro's existence for the rest of his own.

 

He feels completely out of his depth. It's like he's knowingly wading deeper and deeper into dangerous waters despite having absolutely no idea how to swim.

 

"So are we doing this or what?" Keith asks, desperate to distract himself from his thoughts.

 

Shiro's smile is dangerous. "Follow me, then."

 

He gives the command like someone who is used to being obeyed. Something inside Keith bristles horribly at this, but he still finds himself falling into step beside Shiro.  

 

They head through the nearby underground parking lot to get to the pier, neither of them saying a single word.

 

A small group of people are camped out on the beach. There's a bonfire going - its bright flames flicker up at skies above while shadows dance over the sand - and Keith can hear the soft melodies from some kind of indie song playing. The people sitting around the bonfire give them a wary look when he and Shiro step onto the beach, as if they're expecting to be attacked at any moment.

 

They're not human, Keith can tell that much. He has no idea what these people are and it troubles him. What he _does_ know is that there's something very wrong with them; something that makes Keith extremely uncomfortable.

 

"What are they?" Keith asks, unable to keep his curiosity in check.

 

Shiro's determined pace slows down just a little bit as he turns his head to look at them.

 

"Thin Bloods," he replies. There's equal amount of pity and contempt to be found in his voice.

 

Keith digs the tip of his boot into the sand. "You've used that term before, but I have no idea what that is."

 

Shiro stops walking completely. "They're vampires of the final generations."

 

"Which means _what_ exactly?" Keith's voice is touched with a hint of annoyance.

 

Shiro, in turn, is smiling with amusement, very aware that his vague answers are aggravating. Then the smile softens, and Shiro begins with a proper, more detailed explanation.

 

"A generation is how far removed a vampire is from Caine—"

 

" _Cain_? The guy from the Bible? The one who stabbed his brother?"

 

"He didn't stab him, but yes, we're talking about the very same Caine." Shiro's smile becomes a little strained as he continues with the story. "The legend goes that he was cursed with vampirism by God as punishment for murdering his brother Abel. He then wandered aimlessly until he eventually met Lilith, Adam's first wife. With her magic, Caine created most of the Disciplines - our vampiric powers."

 

"They don't teach that version in any Sunday school I've ever been to."

 

Shiro laughs, and god the way his lips curl up is simply gorgeous.

 

"Caine was the first vampire," he continues, "so he's obviously the very First Generation. Caine then Sired Enoch, Irad, and Zilah, who are all part of the Second Generation. They, in turn, created the Third Generation, and so on. Every childe is one generation higher than their sire, and the higher your generation is, the further removed you are from Caine's blood and therefore his powers. The final generations," Shiro looks back at the group of Thin Bloods once again, his mouth twisting unhappily at the frightened, huddled picture they paint, "are cursed. Their blood is so diluted that they can barely even be called vampires, which is where the term 'Thin Blood' comes from. But they're not human, either. They're weaker than we are, but they're still more powerful than Kine and many of them break the Masquerade without ever really meaning to. Their existence is a danger to the rest of vampire society, so they're often hunted down and killed."

 

"And you're okay with that?" Keith asks stiffly. He knows he's being confrontational, but he can't really help it.

 

Hunting down and killing someone for something they're not responsible for doesn't sit right with him. Keith doesn't think for a minute that any one of the four people on that beach ever wanted to be turned into Thin Bloods.

 

Shiro has the grace to look ashamed. "We've been forced to do terrible things to survive, and it will remain that way as the world becomes a lot more difficult to hide from."

 

Keith doesn't know how to argue against something like that. He's familiar with surviving; intimately so. He's done a few things he isn't exactly proud of just to make it through a day.

 

Shiro's shoulders seem to slump. "Come on, let's go."

 

Keith can't look at the tiny group again when he knows that they'll all likely be dead very soon. Feeling incredibly downcast, he trails behind Shiro and towards the figure who's been waiting silently off to the side near what appears to be a small speedboat.

 

"Kinkade," Shiro greets, voice warm. "You've done everything I asked?"

 

Kinkade nods, but doesn't say a word. Shiro hums despite the absence of a verbal answer, obviously pleased.

 

Keith tries not to feel silly or awkward when Kinkade's blank but heavy gaze settles upon him. Kinkade tilts his head, obviously curious about Keith, but continues to say nothing.  

 

"Should I stay and wait for you?" Kinkade asks then, eyes back on Shiro again. His voice is smooth and confident, if a little monotone.

 

"No, thank you." Shiro thumps Kinkade's shoulder as he walks towards the speedboat. "You can go home."

 

Again, Kinkade says nothing. He simply nods before wandering away without even a goodbye.

 

Keith doesn't watch the strange man leave, instead hurrying after Shiro and scrambling into the speedboat before the older man decides to leave him on that beach.

 

"Who was that?"

 

"A ghoul. My ghoul, to be more precise," Shiro replies as he kneels beside a duffel bag that's been hidden in the front of the boat. "A ghoul is a human who is bound to a vampire by the power of our blood," he explains without any kind of prompting on Keith's part. "Every month I give Kinkade a small amount of my own blood, which then binds him to me. If I summon him, he has no choice but to come. Whatever I ask of him, he'll do. He's my eyes and my ears during the day when I'm at my weakest."

 

"So, he's your slave?"

 

"Not at all," Shiro says, shaking his head while continuing to dig through the bag. "Well, there are Kindred who treat their ghouls like slaves, but Kinkade is more like an employee than an indentured servant. There are perks for him too, you know. He's faster, stronger, and heals better than a regular human ever would. He won't age either, and he may even get to live forever. He also has my protection and my support in every way that matters." Shiro throws a smile over his shoulder. "It's really not a bad deal."

 

"If you say so," Keith murmurs, still not entirely convinced.

 

Vampire society is turning out to be far more bureaucratic than he would've ever thought. Tawdry romance novels would have you believe there are countless nights of passion coupled with dangerous yet exciting conspiracies, but so far there seems to be far more boardrooms and far fewer wild orgies.

 

"I promise I'm not keeping Kinkade against his will," Shiro adds. "He knew exactly what I was and what I would need from him when I asked him to be my ghoul."

 

Shiro finally finds what he's been looking for. There's a satisfied hum as Shiro pulls the item free – a lovely glint catches Keith's eye as the moonlight reflects off the ceremonial knife's impressive blade.

 

Then Shiro straps a sheath around his thigh and lowers the dagger down into it.

 

"Nice knife," Keith comments, immediately wary of it.

 

A dark, threatening aura is suspended around it, and Keith immediately wants to stay far, far away from it.

 

Shiro looks grave suddenly, even a little worried, when he folds a large, protective hand around the weapon's scabbard.

 

"Hopefully we won't need to use it."

 

Keith frowns, newly anxious about what they're about to do. He has a bad feeling about the Elizabeth Dane. He has an even worse feeling about that sarcophagus the Prince is so very interested in.

 

If Shiro notices how apprehensive Keith is, then he's decided not comment on it. What Shiro does do is start the boat's engine so they can be on their way.

 

"When are you gonna tell me what the deal with this sarcophagus is?" Keith asks over the roar of the engine.

 

"I've already told you everything you need to know." Shiro keeps his eyes fixed in front of him and on the forsaken ship off in the distance.

 

Keith scowls. "Cut the crap, Shiro. Something about it is making you nervous, and I want to know why."

 

A short laugh vibrates its way through Shiro's broad chest. "You're annoyingly perceptive for a Fledgling, you know that?"

 

It takes every ounce of willpower to be found in Keith not to preen like some vapid schoolboy with an embarrassingly obvious crush. A bit of friendly sarcasm will suit him well, Keith decides. It should also distract him from the way Shiro's smile makes his insides twist uncomfortably.

 

"I wasn't born yesterday, Shiro. Embraced yesterday, sure, so I may only be a Fledgling, or a childe, or whatever the hell you want to call me, but. _But_ , I've for lived for twenty-three years on this craptastic planet, and I've had to deal with my share of scammers and bullshitters for most of that time."

 

The smile on Shiro's broadens just enough so that Keith can see a flash of his wickedly sharp canines. "So old, so wise."

 

"You disagree? How old is old then, wise guy?" Keith asks, leaning forward so he can catch Shiro's gaze. A pleased thrill runs through him when he notices the amused gleam in friendly gray eyes.

 

"Try over four hundred," Shiro replies with a casual roll of his broad shoulders, as if he's commenting on something as mundane as the weather. "Honestly, I stopped keeping track a long time ago, but it's around there somewhere."

 

Keith chokes on his own tongue. "Fuck... _Fuck_. Okay. Yeah." He blinks owlishly for a good few seconds. His brain feels absolutely astounded, unable to grasp that anyone could really be that old and still look so damn good, vampirism be damned. "You've been around the block a few times, sure, but I'm still not buying what you're selling. That sarcophagus is bad news, and you need to tell me why. I deserve to know, Shiro."

 

Mirth quickly bleeds out from Shiro's eyes.

 

"You're right," he agrees solemnly. "I haven't told you everything and you should know what I'm getting you mixed up in."

 

"So tell me, then. I won't change my mind about helping you. Not that I _could_ – we're halfway there already." Keith grins when he sees Shiro's mouth twitching upward again.

 

"You could always jump overboard and swim back."

 

"Could I?" Keith looks down at the dark ocean their speedboat is effortlessly cutting through. "Aren't vampires, like, weak to running water or something?"

 

The laugh that bursts out from Shiro is loud, a tiny bit unattractive, and entirely genuine.

 

"Did Lance tell you that?"

 

"No," Keith mutters. Honestly, he's not entirely sure where he learned about vampires' weakness to running water. He doesn't _think_ Hunk's annoying friend ever mentioned any potential vampiric vulnerabilities to him. But whenever Lance opens his mouth to say anything, Keith _does_ find himself zoning out. It's a self-preservation tactic, really – there's only so much stupidity he can take before he loses it completely and Lance seems like he's an infinite source of idiocy. "I think I saw it in a movie once."

 

"Forget everything you think you know about vampires, okay? We're not vulnerable to crosses, churches, garlic, or any kind of running water." Shiro briefly drops his right arm over the boat's edge so his long fingers can glide through the sea in an obvious attempt to prove a point. "Stakes, wooden or otherwise, are dangerous when they catch you in the chest, but even then they'll only paralyze you for a few hours." Shiro gives him an awkward look that is filled with not-so-hidden meaning. "But you knew that already..."

 

Keith nods. Rubbing his chest, he recalls how painful it was when one of Lotor's henchman shoved a wooden stake right into his chest after spending hours hunting Keith down like he's some kind of wild animal that needed to be put down. Keith _also_ remembers how frightened he felt; how he just couldn't understand what was happening or why.        

 

"We are susceptible to fire," Shiro continues. His voice is thankfully more than enough to free Keith from a few truly unpleasant memories. "And the one thing that is absolutely one hundred percent true is that we're weak against the sun."

 

"Guess I won't be working on my tan any time soon."   

 

"Good idea, unless you really want that to be the last thing you ever do."

 

Keith chuckles. "Noted."

 

A few seconds of comfortable silence slowly tick on by, and Keith, to his own surprise, realizes he's content to wait until Shiro is ready to tell him what's really going on.

 

Then Shiro's jaw is clenching, and his long, gorgeous fingers tighten around the boat's steering wheel.

 

"You're newly Sired, so you won't be able to notice it yet," Shiro says, "but something about the city feels different. Wrong. It's like we're balanced on a tightrope and it's about to snap at any moment."

 

"Okay..."

 

Shiro's mouth twists unpleasantly. "Things started feeling unusually strange when the Ankaran Sarcophagus was first discovered, and that feeling became stronger the closer the Elizabeth Dane got to our city's shores." He then attempts a reassuring smile, but it comes across as more of a grimace. "Now it's entirely possible that we're sensing something else – the Sabbat are more vicious than ever, and the Kuei-jin have managed to snatch control of Chinatown away from the Camarilla, and they're itching to expand further into Los Angeles, so things are tense and volatile even without an ancient sarcophagus popping up. But some people - too many people, really - think that an Antediluvian sleeps inside that sarcophagus. The Camarilla don't believe that, of course, and we're not here to entertain anyone's silly superstitions, but Lotor wants me to examine it so we can end this stupidity before mass panic sweeps through the streets."

 

"Wait... _Wait_." Keith closes his eyes and shakes his head in an attempt to let his brain catch up with what Shiro is telling him. "What exactly is an Antediluvian and why would it matter if one happens to be inside that sarcophagus?"

 

"Remember when I told you about the different vampire generations?" Shiro asks.

 

Keith nods. "Sure."

 

"Well an Antediluvian is a Third Generation vampire, and according to legends, they're the founders of the different vampire clans. Ventru, Brujah and Troile, Ennoia, Malkav, Absimillard, Arikel, and Tzimisce are some of the oldest and most powerful of our kind." Shiro pushes his fingers through the white floof arranged beautifully over his high forehead. It comes away tousled, which only makes the man look even more attractive. "A few gullible Kindred believe the Antediluvians have been sleeping millennia away, and that they're waiting for their chance to bring about Gehenna."

 

"Gehenna?" Keith asks, tearing his gaze away from Shiro's hair so he can stop wondering if it would feel as silky around his fingers as he thinks it will.

 

"It's supposedly the end of the world as we know it – when the antediluvians will rise again to devour all of their descendants."

 

"But you don't believe they exist?"

 

Shiro shakes his head. "No, I don't. I mean I'm sure they existed once, since the different clans had to come from _somewhere_ , but I don't believe they're sleeping whole ages away just to one day rise again so they can devour us all. It's been thousands of years since The First City was destroyed, so they must all have gone through a Final Death by now."

 

"Why the fancy dagger, then?" Keith asks.

 

"Just because I don't think we're going to stumble upon an ancient on that boat, doesn't mean there isn't _something_ dangerous waiting for us." One hand drops to the sheath wrapped around his thigh, as if Shiro subconsciously needs to make sure the blade is still safe in its scabbard. "There are many terrifying things that go bump in the night, Keith. They don't have to be a vampiric boogeyman to pose a real threat to us."

 

"Huh, guess you got me there," Keith mutters and leans back in his seat. Makes sense – if vampires are real, then why wouldn't there be other monstrous creatures waiting to take a bite out of him?

 

Shiro hums. "And now you know everything."

 

"Yeah?" Keith can't help but grin.

 

"Well," Shiro reconsiders after spotting Keith's smug expression, "you know everything I know about the Ankaran Sarcophagus. But there's still a lot left for you to learn about everything else, Fledgling."

 

"If you say so, old man."

 

They share an amused look that ends with both of them succumbing to delighted laughter. Though much too soon their chuckles come to a sudden end when they finally reach the unnerving vessel that is the Elizabeth Dane.

 

Keith isn't sure what a real ghost ship is supposed to look like, but he's sure the Elizabeth Dane could easily pass for one.

 

Old, corroded steel creaks ominously as the ocean rocks gently underneath the cargo ship. Most of the lights have been turned off, with only a few remaining on for the convenience of the officers still on board. As a result, the Elizabeth Dane appears as a large, menacing shadow left to haunt the seas.

 

There are three Coast Guard ships anchored next to it, and Keith feels his belly twist and turn under the assault of new nerves.  

 

"How the hell are we going to sneak through a ship full of cops?" Keith asks.

 

"We won't be sneaking," Shiro replies casually as he kills the engine. "We'll be invited in."

 

"What does that even _mean_?" Keith swallows his confusion, and rises from his seat at the same time Shiro does.   

 

"It means follow my lead and don't do anything stupid," Shiro answers with a smile that does nothing to ease the dread nesting deep inside Keith.

 

"Don't do anything stupid? It's way too fucking late for that," Keith mutters when he follows Shiro up the rope ladder hanging from the Dane's side.

 

"We need to do three things while we're here," Shiro says the moment Keith's feet hit the deck. "One, we need to take a look at the sarcophagus."

 

"So we're really not gonna steal it?" Keith isn't sure if he's disappointed or relieved.

 

" _We're_ not, no."

 

"Right, of course." Keith knows better than to ask when the sarcophagus will be liberated and by whom. "What are the other two things we need to do?"

 

"We need to see the police report, as well as the ship manifest." Shiro's large hand encircles around Keith's arm and pulls him closer so he can lean in and whisper in Keith's ear. "There's law enforcement everywhere on this ship, and we can't let it turn into a massacre. No matter what happens, you let me handle it. Okay?"

 

"I-I," Keith coughs. "I mean, yeah, whatever you say goes."

 

Why are Shiro's hands so damn big? And, more importantly, what would they feel like wrapped tightly around Keith's—

 

"Ready?" Shiro asks. His grip around Keith's arm slackens until it falls away entirely.

 

Keith resists the urge to beg Shiro to touch him again, and nods.

 

"As I'll ever be."  

 

Side-by-side, Shiro and Keith carefully walk along the deck. They don't get very far, however, before they encounter their very first obstacle – an officer is standing watch near the stairs leading down to Gangway A and B, and doesn't seem in a hurry to move along.

 

Keith tenses, wondering what they'll have to do to avoid the cop when the officer suddenly turns to look at them.

 

"Yo, over here..." The officer says in a hushed tone as he leans forward to wave them closer.

 

"Uh..." Keith falters, but Shiro is already heading towards the cop.

 

Gaping at Shiro's back, Keith hesitates, shakes his head as he remembers that he's supposed to trust the older vampire, and then hurries after him.

 

"Oh, for chrissakes!" The cop groans when they're close enough. "Tell Jacobson that if he ever plans on making editor-in-chief, he's gonna _have_ to start working with me. I can't keep getting him these scoops if he's gonna send high school journalists who don't know enough to wear something that would blend in."

 

Keith shuffles on his feet, feeling awkward. He's suddenly all too aware of his scuffed biker boots, his ripped and faded jeans, and his really old leather jacket that should've been dumped in the trash years ago.  

 

The cop's gaze moves between them. Carefully, he examines them and it really doesn't take him long to realize something about them is very, very wrong.

 

"Wait, you're not—"

 

" _Quiet_ ," Shiro commands and the cop immediately goes silent, much to Keith's surprise.

 

There's something about Shiro's voice now – something incredibly strange and deeply disturbing – that makes the hair on the back of Keith's neck stand up.

 

"Good," Shiro murmurs. "Now _relax_ ," he continues, and the rigidity in the cop's body visibly drains out of him.

 

Shoulders slumped, a clouded look bleeds into the man's eyes.

 

"Very good. Alright," Shiro's eyes drop to the badge pinned to his chest, "Officer Heinz, you _will_ continue to believe that my friend and I were sent by Jacobson, and you'll tell me and give me everything you planned to. Okay?"

 

"Okay," Heinz murmurs dully.

 

"Excellent." Shiro claps his hands together, very pleased. "Let's get on with it, then."

 

"I got you a copy of the police report and the ship manifest," Heinz says as if nothing strange just happened and pulls a few folded papers from his back pocket, "and I can get you into the security cabin, but you gotta make yourself real scarce after that."

 

"Of course," Shiro says, taking the report and manifest and secreting them away into his own pockets. "Anything else?"

 

"Hold up a sec..." Heinz holds up one hand and reaches for the radio attached to his shoulder with his other. "Heinz to Marsh. Heinz to Marsh, over..."

 

_"Yeah?"_ A tired voice cracks through the radio.

 

"Marsh, they need you up in the bridge, over."

 

_"Copy. On my way."_

 

"There, the security room will be clear. Now, head down the stairs behind you and stay low."

 

Keith glances over at the stairs, and frowns at the sight of dried blood splattered all over the steps.

 

"When you get down there, wait for me to call off the officer guarding Gangway A. As soon as he leaves, get moving. There won't be any time to dilly-dally, kay?"

 

"Of course." Shiro nods.

 

"When you're past him, take the stairs up to the security room. There will be a computer inside, and the password for it is Lighthouse. L-I-G-H-T-H-O-U-S-E. All one word. You got all that?"

 

"Got it," Shiro confirms.

 

Heinz jerks his head towards the stairs. "Get going, then."

 

"Thank you, officer."

 

Shiro spins on his heel and leaves Heinz behind. On his way towards the short staircase, he grabs Keith's arm and pulls him along.

 

"That was... How did you—" Keith splutters as he stumbles down the stairs after Shiro.

 

"I'll explain everything later," Shiro promises when he pushes Keith up against a wall that will keep him out of sight.

 

Keith grits his teeth, and shoves the embarrassing squeak hurrying up his throat back down again.

 

They remain there in the dark, their bodies pressed close together, while they wait for Heinz to distract the officer guarding Gangway A.

 

Shiro's scent is incredibly alluring. So much so that Keith has to squeeze his eyes firmly shut to stop them from rolling into the back of his head like he's some infatuated virgin in a steamy romance novel.

 

There's a delightful hint of exquisite cologne, and right underneath it is something powerful, something a lot like lightning streaking across a gloomy sky during a terribly violent storm. God, all Keith wants to do is push closer to Shiro. He yearns to bury his nose into Shiro's neck and nuzzle where a pulse should be but isn't. He aches with the need to drag his teeth over Shiro's skin before sinking them into his soft and beautiful flesh.

 

"Come on," Shiro whispers, completely shattering Keith's fantasies as he steps away.

 

The coast is finally clear, and Shiro wastes no time moving.

 

It seems Shiro is still completely unaware of the effect he has on Keith. Small mercies, Keith thinks as he follows Shiro into a hall and into a small, adjacent room with the stairs Heinz mentioned. They head up those stairs, and then finally into the security cabin.

 

The door squeaks on rusted hinges when Shiro pushes it open. He doesn't seem worried about the noise drawing unwanted attention, however, instead hurrying into the room, and making for the cabin's only computer while Keith spares a moment to take in his surroundings.

 

The security cabin is just a small room with one desk, a single desktop computer on that desk, one dead security monitor next to it, and a few metal filing cabinets spread out along the walls. It's not exactly impressive, but the Elizabeth Dane is only a small, irrelevant cargo ship – it's likely that no one ever thought it would end up as the target of whatever decided to massacre the entire crew.   

 

"We'll use the deck cams to take a look at the sarcophagus," Shiro explains as he types in the password – Lighthouse – to power the deck cams on. The security monitor beside it lights up when he hits enter.

 

"You're not brave enough to sneak a closer look, huh? Afraid Grandpa Vlad's gonna wake up and eat you?" Keith teases.

 

Shiro chuckles. "Vlad Dracula wasn't really a vampire, you know. Besides, he was born during the fifteenth century, so he wouldn't even be old enough to be considered an antediluvian."

 

"Nerd," Keith mutters without any malice whatsoever, which draws yet another charming smile from the man.

 

"Anyway, the authorities are keeping a very close eye on that sarcophagus," Shiro says, motioning towards the monitor where security feed of the cargo bay is now currently playing, and Keith can make out a number of officers patrolling the area around the ancient casket. "And I can do many things, but making myself invisible isn't one of them." He leans closer to the monitor, and adds in a soft, contemplative tone: "I should've asked Pidge to come with us... Obfuscate would be really useful right now."

 

"Couldn't you just do what you did with that other cop?" Keith asks.

 

"I could," Shiro confirms. "But dominating a group of people is always risky, and why complicate things when the security cameras will tell me everything I need to know?"

 

Dominate. So _that_ was the word for what Shiro did earlier.

 

Can Keith Dominate others, or is that a power unique to Shiro and his clan? Would Keith even want to be able to force others to do his bidding? Keith instinctively rebels against the idea of being controlled, so why would he want to do the same to others? Not that he can't see _some_ of the advantages of getting people to do what he wanted – if he could shut Lance up with a thought, or get Hunk to stop fussing, then Keith can't say he wouldn't be at least a little bit tempted.

 

"Hn."

 

"What?" Keith asks, attention immediately falling back on Shiro. The older vampire is flipping through the different security feeds in an attempt to see the sarcophagus from a bunch of different angles.

 

"It's been opened."

 

"Okay?"

 

"From the _inside_ , Keith. Take a look." Shiro waves Keith forward.

 

Keith steps up beside Shiro, and leans in a touch so he can take a closer look at the security feed.

 

The pine cargo box the sarcophagus was being transported in is completely destroyed, lying in splintered pieces around the artefact it was supposed to be protecting. The sarcophagus itself is undamaged, except for the blood smeared on it, and just as Shiro claimed, the lid is closed now, but the bloody hand prints on the side of it show that someone, or something, pushed up against the lid from the inside instead of prying it off from the outside.

 

"Shit," Keith breathes. "This is bad, right? Grandpa Vlad is up and about and starving?"

 

Shiro folds his hand over Keith's shoulder and squeezes gently. "Now isn't the time to panic."

 

"Isn't the time—" Keith sputters. He swallows his words, takes a moment to calm himself down, and tries again. "Shiro, whatever used to be in that sarcophagus opened it, crawled out, and slaughtered everyone on this boat! I think now is _definitely_ the right time to panic!"

 

"Hey, look at me." Shiro turns Keith around so they're standing face-to-face. Carefully, he holds Keith's face between his large hands. "We don't know what actually happened here, and jumping to conclusions won't help anyone."

 

Keith continues to frown up at the man even as he nods his agreement.

 

"Fine."

 

"Just trust me, okay?" Shiro says, and slowly lets Keith go. "We have everything we came for, so it's time to get out of here."

 

Keith nods again, more than happy to blow this popsicle stand. 

 

They hurry back to their speedboat and manage to leave without encountering any law enforcement or ancient vampires just waiting to devour them like they're some kind of fleshy midnight snack.

 

Then they're speeding away from the Elizabeth Dane. Behind them, the ship remains haunted and alone in the night.

**Author's Note:**

> "Grandpa Vlad." Oh Keith, this isn't Castlevania.
> 
> I should come clean: the tiny bit I know about Los Angeles and Santa Monica is all from VtM:B, which isn't an accurate depiction at all. I'm sorry!
> 
> For those who are curious, Shiro was born in 1551 in Japan and was Embraced sometime around 1576 (age 25) by a "Western vampire" who managed to enter Japan as part of the cultural exchange encouraged by Oda Nobunaga. I'm by no means an expert in Japanese history, but my research says those dates make at least a little bit of sense. Don't worry, Shiro isn't some old guy in a young dude's body. Vampires stop aging mentally at whichever age they're Embraced, which is why vampires who are Embraced at a more advanced age have a much harder time adapting to any modern changes they'll experience as time goes by. Vampires that have been Embraced while they're, like, in their 20s don't experience this problem.
> 
>  
> 
> **Glossary:**
> 
>  
> 
>  **Antediluvians** are vampires of the Third Generation with incalculable power, each of whom survived the Biblical Deluge. Some of the survivor vampires are considered to be the founders of the different vampire clans. 
> 
> **Caine** is the legendary father of all vampires, based on the biblical figure. He is the firstborn son of Adam and Eve, and the older brother of Abel. He was cursed with vampirism by God as punishment for murdering Abel. His current whereabouts are completely unknown. 
> 
> **Final Death** is a term used by vampires to refer to permanent death, as opposed to torpor or their first death as part of the Embrace. By nature, vampires are incredibly resilient and tend to recover from wounds that would kill a mortal several times over. However, there is a limit to the punishment that their bodies can take, and specific forms of damage, such as from fire or sunlight, can lead to true destruction.
> 
>  **Gehenna** is the vampire end times. 
> 
> A **Generation** describes how far removed a vampire is from Caine, the first vampire. There are fifteen in total, and the 14th and 15th generations are considered cursed as many of them are Thin Bloods.
> 
>  **Kuei-jin** are the corrupted descendants of Wan Xian, the "Ten Thousand Heroes" chosen by the August Personage of Jade to guide and protect the universe in ancient history. The Kuei-jin do not feed on blood, and instead feed on chi. Kuei-jin are not created through the act of another, like western vampires are, and their numbers are limited and cannot be easily replenished. Their blood has no supernatural properties of its own and cannot create Blood Bonds or ghouls. Because they are essentially spirits wearing bodies, they can take an enormous amount of damage, including a little death that wipes out the body and forces the Kuei-jin to seek out a new host.
> 
>  **Obfuscate** is a Discipline that allows vampires to conceal themselves and create some manner of illusions. It is one of the more popular Disciplines practised by vampires, and is the source of legends surrounding the ability of vampires to vanish and appear seemingly from nowhere. Obfuscate is mentally based; its powers achieve their effects by manipulating the minds of others, not in creating any real changes, and thus will not work against creatures immune to such mental effects or technological sensors. In VtM:B, only Malkavians and Nosferatu can use this Discipline.
> 
> A **sire** is a vampire that has Embraced a childe. The term is unisexual, applying to both male and female vampires. Alternatively, the term may apply to the Embrace itself. The sire has the responsibility of raising their childe to become a good vampire. A bad childe is a reason for others to look down on the sire. Though the sire/childe relationship is very often similar to that of a parent/child relationship, it's not always the case.


End file.
